Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Verily, Verily I say to you I'm not giving up on my cleavage issue. what cleavage issue you might ask(if you are not a blog stalker)? the issue of there being zero, zilch, nada, nan, none, void, zippo, zot, a nonexistence to anything that remotely looks like a boob nicely protruding out of my neck line.

I made a friend come over last night to investigate. I've decided to change her name to protect the "not so" innocent. We'll call her Kimora Lee Simmons a.k.a. KS. After she poked, prodded, taped, tortured and fondled my chest one time too many, she decided it must be my bra. We've tried the "chicken cutlets" but they didn't work.

I'm pissed because I just bought a $60 bra from Victoria Secrets FOR the wedding and now it doesn't work. I'm needing a heavy duty, push-up to your chin, push up bra. Do any of you ladies have a suggestion? The fate of my boobs are in your hands (well, not literally but you know what I mean!).

Monday, January 25, 2010

Friday, the Mr. and I traveled to downtown Dallas and headed up to the second floor of the,so filthy we pressed the button of the elevator with our elbow, Records Building to obtain our marriage license. Luckily we met all the requirements the State of Texas has to get married-we aren't cousins,we aren't currently married to someone else and we aren't late on child-support payments. Whew-that was a close one.

Count down is five days and I'm really getting pumped. Whooooooo! (I just pumped my fist in the air and said that out loud. My co-workers are talking about me right about now) Homegirl doesn't look like she is getting married this week though. I'm waiting to the last minute for my beauty maintainence and my roots are FOUL and I need to wax my upper lip so bad I'm beginning to speak like I'm from Jersey.

You will all be thrilled to know that I picked up my dress and it fit perfectly. I celebrated this success by heading straight to Taco Bell where I devoured a Crunchy Supreme Wrap and a bean burrito. I was really nervous about the dress, but it's beautiful and classy and everyone will love it. I was slightly disappointed because it doesn't show of "the girls" like they deserve. I mean they are my best asset but when I explained this to Mark, his reply was, "I'm sure our mother's will appreciate your modesty".

Friday, January 22, 2010

One week from today, I'll be rolled up and squeezed into a beautiful white dress(yes, white. who says you can't wear white on the second marriage? your grandma did? well,shut it grandma, this is my parade!) and marrying the man of my dreams --and every divorced Plano/Frisco mom in her mid-thirtys who's mouth would water at the sight of him. yeah, I'm watching you.

If you haven't notice I've taken a break from the good ole' blog this week in order to clear my mind to write the most important piece I've written to date--my vows. No not vowels, as in A,E,I,O,U (this one's for you Swann!). Oh, and Y. We must not leave out the Y, Shirly Grammer would be so proud of me. But, my vowels, I mean VOWS to my wonderful Mark! Although, I cannont share them with you now, as I want them to be a surprise on our wedding day. I do vow to you that I will post our vows on the blog after the wedding so you can feel like you were a part of our day, too!

I'm getting super excited to be, Mrs. Jennifer Gardner. Is it just me or it that a terribly hard last name. I still get confused as to whether is GarNer or GardENer or GarDner. And to answer the question that I'm sure is going off in your mind right about now: Yes, my mother did drop me several times as a child.

On a serious note, please be praying for Mark and I this next week as we prepare to embark upon this crazy little thing called love and marriage. We are so very excited and I personally cannot wait to be his wife.

Monday, January 18, 2010

I sold my couch on Craig's List for $100 to a guy who reeked of pot, kitty litter and lilac febreeze; that's how much it sucked. My dining room table went to a large woman who showed up to my apartment in a KIA rio with 4 runny-nosed screaming children and a sprained ankle. She brought no help, except her eldest son who was all of 8 years old and paid me the last five of the hundred and fifty dollars in quarters. I focused in on all of my inner Wonder Woman strength and managed to drag the table down the flight of stairs to the KIA rio that of course the table and four chairs didn't fit in, but I had my $145 dollars cash and five dollars worth of quarters in my pocked and told the lady she was on her own. Hours later when I returned she and the table were gone, so she either phoned a friend, asked the audience or there was a blue KIA rio driving down the North Dallas Tollway with a dinning room table set strapped to the top of it.

All this to say, I didn't have much to move into Mark's place. No offense to my ex-husband, but I got screwed in the division of assets. It was my own fault, I had this crazy thing called guilt that made me believe giving him everything would make it all okay. There are very few things that I moved into Mark's that are of any value. The few items I have deep pride in are: 1.) My lime green Le Creuset pots. They are practically brand new (due to my lack of cooking) so they are still REAL purty. 2.) My pink Kitchen Aid Mixer that Mark refuses to allow me to set on the counter top A.) because it's pink B.) because it's pink. And last but not least 3.)My DVD collection.

Mark and I love to snuggle up and watch movies and I was all too excited to have something new and exciting to contribute in the household. I mean, who wouldn't be thrilled to have "Notting Hill" and many other of Julia Robert's timeless masterpieces at their fingertips? Much to my surprise, the fiancee wasn't as enthused about the collection as I would have thought.

"This is the movie collection of a sad, overweight single chick" said my oh so sweet punkin.

So now, my net worth is now solely wrapped around an un-used set of pots and a pink kitchen aid mixer.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

All my usless possessions and random crap I've accrued in this life, comfortably fit in a small U-haul truck as I kissed my apartment good-bye a few weeks ago to move into the house I will now call my home with Mark. As Mark helped me slowly unpack the boxes of randomness (dishwashing detergent packed with mis-matched socks and bleaching cream), I could see his face start to shine with perspiration as he realized what he was about to marry.....a SLOB. Well, that's a little harsh...how about a "Strategically Disorganized Person". I mean, I KNEW that the dishwashing detergent was in the sock drawer, so that should count for something. Right?

For a dude, Mark has WAY too many clothes. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled that the wittle boy knows how to dress himself, but I'm trying to gently persaude him that the Gap jeans from 94' are never going to come back in style. So as I moved in my clothes into the closet that is entirely too small for the floor plan he has, we quickly realized, "Houston, we have a problem".

The clothes in our closet are squeezed in tigher than Kirstie Alley in a two piece bikini. Our closet is just about that bad; it's like a carwreck...too painful to look at but you just can't help it! I'm so scared to sort through the piles in fear that I'm going to find a very wrinkled umpa-lumpa in the mist of it all.

Mark called me this morning and told me, that he got in a fight with the closet this morning as he attempted to pull a pair of pants off the hanger that was blocked by a "suitcase filled with high heels". He proceded by asking why we had a suitcase full of highheels. Well, where else am I suppose them??

So, ladies. Do you have any organization suggestions or tips you can give me on how to organize this closet so Mark doesn't change his mind about marrying me? If you do, leave me a comment! I'm in desperate need. Besides, you owe me! I sit here and spill out my soggy milk stories (this will mean something entirely different once I have a child) to you so you can judge me and make yourself feel better about your problems. That's what I'm here for!

Monday, January 11, 2010

I am all too excited about marrying the man of my dreams, having a fabulous honeymoon filled with lots of Sex on the Beach (THE COCKTAIL YOU DIRTY MINDED PEOPLE! Shame, Shame, Shame) and a lifetime of wonderful wonderfulness with my wonderful hubby and wonderful step-children and three wonderful dogs and my big wonderful new house, and my wonderful new mercedes(hey! A girl can dream), and my wonderful new bedding and my wonderful...okay, okay, you get the picture.

Do I have any doubts or fears about the man I'm marrying, the children I am getting or who should win The Biggest Loser season 6? NO. But....I'd be lying to ya if I said I didn't have fears about the big day.

I fear that I don't deserve him. Mark, is pretty freakin fantastic but most of the time I tell him how lucky he is to have a hot, young blonde(bottled blonde counts) 15 years his junior. I tell him, "Yeah, you may have to pick up after me now, but atleast I'm going to be able to feed myself and YOU on our 50th wedding anniversary". But, the truth is....I am not deserving of the man that I am about to call my husband. He is strong, kind, gentle sprited yet has enough fire in him to melt me. He's a provider, a protector and I really, really love him. I fear that I don't deserve him.

I fear that I'm going to mess it up...Again. IT, as in a marriage. I fear I will become the wife that I was in my first marriage. The wife who put her husband down rather than built him up. The wife who didn't cook, clean or do anything that wasn't in her comfort zone. The wife who said the words that hurt the most. The wife who let herself go and did not desire to make her husband proud. The wife who failed miserably. I fear that I'm going to mess it up.

I fear that my dress will not fit. I fear that the Happy Meal cheeseburger I just ate has now offically put me over the edge into fitting into the wedding dress I insisted the seamtress make too small. I fear that I will have some weird kind of back fat pouring out of the top of my dress that makes me look like I have a set of boobs in the back as well as the front.

I remember as a kid the mile long hallway that separated my bedroom from my parent's. EYES OPEN. HEART IS RACING. I am scared. I want my parents. I want to go to their room and be comforted by them. I want them to pick me up in their bed,wrap their arms around me and rock me to sleep. It's just steps away, but I can't go to the place I am comforted because of the hallway. I fear the hallway. There are snakes that cover the floor and ghost that seap through the walls. The fear is immobilizing. I would be happy if I could reach the safety of my parent's bed but the fear holds me back. I have to try to get to them. On the count of three. One.....two.....THREE. I leap from my bed and sprint down the hall. I'm flying. My feet barely touch the floor. I firmly grab the door to my parent's room and push. It doesn't move. It's locked. I pound on the door, screaming for my mother to let me in. I can hear them, their movement is quick yet they aren't coming to the door. "Hold on, baby", my mother yells from inside the door. I wait nervously outside the door...panicked and fearful of the invisible snakes that are sure to bite me. I pound on the door again. I hear the bedside table's drawer slam and my dad sigh. The doorknob begins to turn. FINALLY, I think to myself. My mom,wraped up in a silk robe, cracks open the door and pokes her head out. "Yes, darling", she says sweetly yet suprisingly not invitingly. I ask her if I can come in. She says NO. Why not, I ask. She says she's busy. I don't understand. I'm pissed. My mother flips on the hallways light as she takes me back to my room, showing me there are no snakes on the floor and no ghost in the walls. She tells me there is nothing to fear but fear itself. She kisses me swiftly on the cheek and tells me to go to bed as she shuts my door and runs back down the hall to join my father.

So, what was the point of that story? The point is that when you look back on what you fear, usually it ends up being pretty funny. Yes, that's right, now looking back, mom and dad, I KNOW what you two were doing in there! And the funny thing is I was scared of the hallway, but I would have been terrified of what was going on in the bedroom!

Fears no matter how big, don't determine the outcome. I am excited to prove my fears wrong and be the best wife and stepmom I can be. AND, fingers crossed.....I'll fit into that dress!

Thursday, January 7, 2010

This afternoon I will be heading out with some of my girls for Bachelorette weekend in New Orleans. No strong gush of windy or freezing temperature can stop us from heading down to NOLA where we plan on going to the spa, giggling and telling ghost stories, going to church, volunteering at a soup kitchen, going to another church service, baking cookies and drinking hot coco.

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

I'm betting a mediocre back massage and some sunflower seeds that most of my blog readers also watch The Bachelor. How did I come to this conclusion one may ask? Well, that show is garbage and my blog is...ahhh a little trashy(scratch that) I mean interesting. So I figured if you can't get enough of my twisted reality you may also enjoy laughing and pointing your judgemental finger at others who are stupid enough to put their lives on display for all to see (or read) for that matter.

Last year I lost a lot of interest after lazy-eyed Jason made me throw up in my mouth every episode with his boning personality and lack of hotness. Not to be rude but how in the H-E-L-L double hockey sticks (wait I think I was suppose to take out the two Ls...oh well) did that loser become The Bachelor? I've met a better looking guy with more potential working behind the counter of the Waffle House in Mesquite.

So for your benefit my little ones, I have decided to follow this season in hopes that I can provide you with commentary and my view into what Jake and the 25 bachlorettes are really thinking.

My brief opinion on Jake, the bachelor: Kind of hunky but not as hunky as my hottie of a fiance. Good boy, kind of dorky with strong morals who is probably going to humiliate his poor southern mother and make out with at least 18 chicks in the hot tub which half of those will lead into dry humping like high schoolers in front of a camera crew (where do they find these people??).

These ladies may be the best looking group of girls I've seen in any season but they are also the silliest group of hussies yet! ONCE AGAIN, ABC managed to find 25 seemingly normal girls to live in a house, fight over one man and leave their jobs and families all for free drinks and a chance to be on T.V. Awesome, this is going to be a great season.

My favorite moment was when the girl Michelle started crying in the first night because she wants to be "his co-pilot". Jake, let me tell you.....it's just the beginning.

My three favorite girls: Ella, the Tennessee southern belle hair dresser who's has a son and an accent that puts my Texas accent to shame.Elizabeth, the nanny who threw a football with Jake and is ubber cute. If I was a guy, I would totally hit that.Tenley, the adorable girl in the blue dress who I bet is going to be in the top 2. She not only got Jake's first impression rose but she got mine too. My heart broke loudly into a million ba gillion little pieces when she talked about only being with one man--her ex-husband. Stupid bastard....I wonder what he did to break that poor girls heart. I'm going to make t-shirts that say TEAM TENLEY.

One of the laugh out loud moments was when Valishia in the red dress got out of the limo and Jake said- "WOW I LOVE YOUR DRESS" aka "Wow, you have HUGE BOOBIES". I mean, even I did a double take.

I just a thought(yes, there are times when I do think), for those of you who have NO CLUE what The Bachelor is let me clear one thing up: I am NOT, I repeat not talking about MY brother, JAKE, who happens to be a bachelor. This is a T.V. show and unfortunately for my brother, 25 hot bimbos did not just pull up in a limo in front of his trailer. He is a pastor though and you know what they say about Righteous LIving.....if Joel Olsteen was God like he thought he was my jake would have 50 blonde's in a limo with cheesecake and Scrabble! What a life...

Anyways, I would love any of your feedback when it comes to THE BACHELOR. It looks like it's going to be one heck of a season (I used heck because every once in a while I start to feel guilty about my potty mouth).

My name is Jennifer. You can call me Jen, Jpo, "hey you"...I'll answer to almost anything. I'm quirky, silly, crazy (yes medically crazy), sad, happy, emmotional, disconnected, strong and at times gasy. This is my story, unedited and real. This is me.